


Beneath the Pale Moonlight

by Medeae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them Spoilers, Obscurus (Harry Potter), obscurial hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeae/pseuds/Medeae
Summary: Slight spoilers for Fantastic Beasts. Hermione's parents are captured when she is a child, and she herself has to go on the run. What is she capable of?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Meant to be a one-shot, but I might expand. Draco only appears at the end.

**1984**

 

The girl steps into the sunlight, dark hair glistening and palm outstretched. A flower bud lies in the middle. “Look, mummy,” she calls, grinning, and as her mother looks, the bud grows. Around them, petals start floating down.

 

**1987**

 

They toy train is chugging along on its toy tracks, but it’s not battery operated. The girl claps her hands in delight, and steam comes billowing out of the train. Once again, she looks to her mother for approval. Her mother smiles, but her eyebrow is furrowed.

 

*

 

“What is she?” her mother whispers, in the darkness of her room.

 

The man holding her strokes her face. “I don’t know.”

 

A pause.

 

“Maybe we should bring her to a doctor.”

 

Her eyes narrow. “Do you really think that would help?” She sits up to face him fully, brushing her hair back from her face. “She’ll be a lab rat. She’ll be killed.” Her mouth tightens. “Humans are the most dangerous creatures on this earth. Maybe the whole universe.”

 

**1988**

 

She isn’t careful, and so the boy next door sees her— sees the spade she conjures out of thin air, sees the spade moving, controlled by an invisible force, sees the seed planted growing and growing and _growing_ , until a small tree stands in its place.

 

He gasps. She turns around, eyes wide.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” she says, trembling. “I can’t do anything dangerous.” She takes a step towards him.

 

He backs away. “Witch,” he whispers, a hand held out in front of him, as if he is warding her off. “You’re evil. You’re a witch.”

 

“No— “

 

“WITCH!” he yells out, and then he is turning around and running back the way he came.

 

The girl shakes, staring at his vanishing figure. Crying, she turns on the spot, and she, too, vanishes.

 

*

 

“I’m really sorry, mummy, I thought there wasn’t anyone around.” She is still crying, rubbing her nose as she says this.

 

Her mother pauses in her packing. “It doesn’t matter now,” she says, rubbing the girl’s shoulders. “But we have to pack as fast as possible, and then leave, do you understand?”

 

She nods, her eyes still shining, but she waves her hand, and all their belongings fly into various suitcases. They slam shut. Her mother swallows, hard.

 

“Stronger every day,” she mutters. “What are we going to do?”

An ear-splitting explosion.

 

“Come out with your hands up!”

 

The girl shrinks back against the wall, eyes dark with fear. Her mother looks at her, face wavering with indecision, then her jaw sets. “Run.”

 

The girl looks at her, confused. “Why can’t we go together?” Footsteps are coming up the stairs.

 

“I’ll slow you down. Go!”

 

The men are nearly outside the door.

 

“But I need you!”

 

“Go!”

 

The door bursts open. Hermione turns on the spot, vanishes. A lone petal lies where she once stood.

 

**1990**

 

They keep her parents somewhere in London. She sees this in the news. _Parents of a Witch. Cult leaders. Children of the Devil. Blood Sacrifices Here in England._

 

Some nights, she swears she hears her mother screaming in her head. She thinks, _they are the lab rats now._

 

She makes her home in the Forest of Dean, where she went camping once with her family. Everything she needs, she can conjure. Her magic has been strengthened by necessity, by the need to survive. It is the rawest form of magic.

 

When she uses it, she hates herself.

 

*

 

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy…_

 

There are people who know where she is, and yet no one has sent help. No one has rescued her parents.

 

No one.

 

*

 

Her magic is strong, but she does not know how to utilise it fully, or how to rescue her parents. She plans and plans, of course, but she does not even know where, exactly, they are being kept.

 

Eventually, she decides, she must go back out into the world. She will learn nothing in the forest. She has to find the ones like her.

 

 

**1991**

It is an even crueller world than she remembers.

 

She tries not to use her magic, for fear of discovery. She thinks she’s put up a spell to render her invisible when she requires it, but she’s not sure, so it’s best just to not do it.

 

She is alone and hungry, out on the streets. Her face has been on every news channel in England, so she looks down, keeping her face in shadow. She walks, observing. Did that man perform sleight of hand or did he use magic? Did that woman just give a letter to an owl? How can she be sure?

 

She sleeps in an abandoned house just beside a little cinema. There’s a playground nearby, and her heart aches when she hears them laughing. It is too much risk to go up to them. She does not know if they’ll recognise her face. She stays alone.

 

One day, it is much too cold, and she huddles under the blanket she brought with her from the forest, but the wind is still chilling her to the bone. She wants to summon some matches, but if she does that, she might as well conjure up a fire. She looks around quickly, listening. The wind howls.

 

She waves her hand and the fire appears.

 

Immediately, there are shouts. “I told you she was the witch-child!” a boy yells, stepping into the house. He had been watching through the window, then. “This is the girl everyone’s been looking for!”

 

His friends appear, one by one, a mixture of boys and girls. They all hang back, gazing warily at her.

 

“I’m not dangerous,” Hermione whispers. History repeating. “I was just cold.”

 

“I don’t believe you, witch.” The boy is almost snarling. “I think you should die.”

 

He reaches into his pocket and brings out a lumpy bag. Before she knows what’s happening, she has been struck in the head by something. She looks down, and it’s a grey rock she thinks they picked up by the river. Her temper flares, blood pounding in her ears. _Stay calm_.

 

“Fight back,” the boy smirks. “Show me what you’ve got. Show us the devil inside you.”

 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Hermione stands up, fists clenched. She feels the magic throbbing in her veins. _Control_.

 

He throws another rock, but this time she stops it mid-air. It hits an invisible wall and falls to the ground with a thud. The boy scoffs.

 

“Is that all you’ve got?”

 

He begins pelting her, then, with little rocks at first, but they gradually increase in size. She stops all of them, but the other children, emboldened by her passiveness, soon start to join in.

 

It’s no effort at all to keep the stones from hitting her, but it’s infuriating, nonetheless. She had only wanted warmth from the cold. She had only wanted to free her parents. Her heartbeat pounds in her ears.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she repeats, her voice slow and measured. _Thump, thump_.

 

The boy laughs again. “Of course you do, wicked witch. Wicked witch of the east. You’re going to die tonight.” His mouth curves up even more. “You’re going to burn.” He turns. “Where’s the kerosene? It’s time!”

 

A few of them walk up closer to her, dragging a can behind them. The rest are still throwing rocks. Idly, she wonders how long they can go before they start to tire.

 

Kerosene splashes on the ground. Her blood burns. They are serious, she realises. They don't even know her, and all she has done is protect herself, and they want to kill her.

 

A match is lit, falls. Bright light suddenly illuminates the old building.

 

The crowd of children laugh. “I hope you burn slowly,” the boy smirks, as they all start to back away from her. They drop matches in front of them, so a wall of fire is created between them and her. There is no visible escape route.

 

She snaps.

 

The flames roar around her, and somehow, she creates a protective shield. Walking through the fire, she makes them lick higher and faster, causing them to block off the door and the windows. The children gape at her then, eyes wide with fear.

 

“Let us out!” the boy yells, but she only throws her head back and laughs. She has made it so that the flames form a circle around the group, closing them in slowly. One of them tries to run through the fire, but the second his hand touches the flames, he lets out a blood-curdling shriek.

 

Hermione feels very in control of her magic, suddenly. She knows exactly how to make it so that no one will be able to hear the children’s screams, knows how to create a force field around the house so that no one could escape even if they managed to brave the flames. She feels light as the air, her magic focused in her very core.

 

In the cover of the trees, she watches the house burn down, stays awake until someone notices the charred remains of the building in the early morning and calls the police and fire department. She waits until they discover the first fragment of bone, then, she fades.

 

 

**1992**

She hates herself. She has killed. Not just one, but many.

 

No more magic.

 

 

**1993**

It’s so cold, and she’s so tired and hungry. Her magic screams for her to use it, but she lives as though she is Wolf-Alice.

 

Why haven’t the people from the Hogwarts school tried to find her?

 

No more magic.

 

 

**1994**

She wonders how her parents are doing. How can she find out where they are without magic? How can she save them? How can she—

 

No more magic.

 

 

**1995**

Some nights, she wakes up in a different place from where she lay down to sleep. When she sneaks into nearby villages for food, she reads in the papers how mass destruction has occurred by an unidentifiable, dark, flying being that tears through the streets effortlessly. She keeps her face hidden.

 

 

**1996**

She wakes up one night, and she’s still in the midst of tearing another city apart. _No!_ she screams. _No!_ But she’s not in control of her own body anymore, of her own magic.

 

The darkness spreads, and still no one comes to find her.

 

*

 

She can control it now, feel the dark force ripping out of her, can direct it to do whatever she wants. She is it, it is she. They are one.

 

At first, she is afraid, and she tries to make it stop. Gradually, she realises that the only way to stop it is to understand it, and when she understands it, well, she doesn’t want to stop anymore. When she embraces it, it grows stronger within her. Thought becomes action. This is power.

 

She doesn’t care about the people that run away from her in fear, or the people that she harms. Why should she? Why should she have to hide in the shadows? Power was created to be used. People only fear her because they are weak, and cannot defend themselves, and if she kills any witch or wizard, it is only because they are not powerful enough to defend themselves, and that is their own fault.

 

She is careful, though, to look at the faces of the people she tears apart, just to make sure they’re not her parents. She inspects buildings before giving in to her hunger for destruction. She watches, existing in fragments. Yet, she has never felt so whole.

 

*****

She thinks she’s found them, heard someone mention their names. They’re being kept in the basement of a building in the next town, and she scoffs when she sees the security detail. She rips through them like putty, blasts through the walls. She halts in front of their holding room (or is it jail cell?), and shifts into her human form for the first time in a year, stepping in.

 

The room is all white, and there are 2 beds. Her parents have shackles around their feet, and they look emancipated. Cold. Afraid.

 

She could cry of happiness. “I’ve come to rescue you,” she whispers, a single tear slipping out. “Hello, Mummy and Daddy.”

 

She moves towards them, but they shrink farther back against the walls.

 

“Go away,” her mother says, voice hoarse. Her eyes are pale. “Monster.”

 

Hermione tenses. “I’m not a monster. I’m your daughter.”

 

Her father clenches his jaw. “We read what you did to those children. We’ve seen how you’ve been ruining people’s lives over the past two years. We know what you really are.” He raises his eyes to meet hers. “You may not be a monster, but you do have one in you, and my only apology is that we brought you into this world.” He pauses. “Turn yourself in,” he says, almost gently, lower lip trembling. “Get yourself fixed. Then, we can be together again.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Hermione snaps. “You’ve been brainwashed.”

 

“Do you deny that you did all those things, then?” her mother asks, eyes fixed on hers, shoulders stiff. “Do you deny all your murders?”

 

Hermione holds her head up high. “No.”

 

“Then?”

 

There is a heavy silence.

 

“Everything,” she whispers, “was for the greater good.”

 

“What greater good? her father cries out. “What could possibly justify everything you’ve done?”

 

“Saving you!” she bursts out. “Everything I did was to find you!”

 

Her parents both scoff. It is her mother who speaks next.

 

“You are using us as scapegoats. You enjoy this. You enjoy destroying everything. How many people did you kill tonight to get to use? Can you tell me you didn’t laugh as you did it? Can you?”

 

 _Thump, thump, snap_.

 

She is a floating mass again, anger brimming over. The air pulses with energy, and she explodes, everywhere. She streaks through the whole city, burning, feeding. Only ash remains. Even the ground disintegrates. When helicopters arrive, all they see is a sunken, black space where a whole city stood, just moments ago.

 

Her parents did not scream.

 

*

 

She rests in the forest. She can almost swear there had been a shape Apparating alongside her as she made her way there, but her senses are much too overloaded, and her blood is still burning. She hovers, looking down at a small patch of flowers. Her heart aches, a little. She remembers how much she loved to grow them, before all this happened.

 

“Hello.”

 

She immediately tenses, and the air shudders. She is getting ready to destroy everyone and everything around her, and she thinks the person senses this, because the next thing he says is her name, and she pauses. Who is this?

 

“You are very impressive.”

 

This time, she senses where he is, and goes there instantly. It’s a boy— a young man, actually— and his pale hair glints in the moonlight. His features are sharp, aristocratic.

 

“Do you know what you are?” he asks, smiling up at her.

 

She is suspicious of him, and his too-white teeth. He wants something from her. There can be no other reason for him to be willing to get so close.

 

“You are an Obscurial.”

 

She cocks her head, but of course he cannot see that. She is the darkness.

 

“What you have inside you is an Obscurus. It manifests when the magic inside someone has been repressed for too long. It is an uncontrollable dark force.”

 

He pauses, and then he smirks.

 

“But you can control it, can’t you?” He takes a step towards her, all the time looking directly at the centre of the dark mass, as if he knows exactly where she is. “No Obscurial has ever lived beyond the age of ten— and yet, you’re 17.” Another step. “I would say that’s something to be quite proud of.” He waits, but she remains silent. "I can help you achieve your full potential,” he says, stretching out a hand. “I can give you food and shelter and a place to let your power out. I can give you freedom.” He holds out the other hand. “If you would consent to come with me.”

 

“Are you from Hogwarts?” Her voice booms, sounding disconnected from her. She wants to know if the people that send her that letter years ago are finally here, trying to make amends, trying to _save_ her.

 

He does not look surprised at her question. Rather, he appears to have been anticipating it. He laughs. “If you come with me, we will tear it down, together.”

 

She scoffs inwardly. Fool. He only wants to use her as a weapon. He wants to control her, not give her freedom. Does he think he can take her in? And yet, the prospect of a warm bed and readily available food is appealing.

 

She makes her choice. She is strong enough, she decides, to kill him and everyone around him when the time comes. She is strong enough to defend herself, as she has been doing all these years.

 

She lands on the ground, feeling her body start to form. He does not gawk at her, nor can she see any fear in his eyes. She takes his hands, and he smirks once again. She catches a glimpse of a tattoo on his forearm.

 

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” he says, and she nods as he Apparates her to somewhere else, thinking, _you are only a fool_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you liked it (and kudos are helpful too). I haven't abandoned R89, school has just been hectic, but hey, my finals are ending! I'll def start writing again.


End file.
